


On the Road to Fhirdiad

by Engineer104



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Post-Blue Lions Route (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Post-Canon, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Engineer104/pseuds/Engineer104
Summary: Travel plans go awry when Felix is forced to make an unscheduled stop at an inn on his way to Fhirdiad. He's not the only one trapped by the sudden blizzard, however...
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 11
Kudos: 109
Collections: Felannie Secret Santa Gifts of 2019





	On the Road to Fhirdiad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Star_on_a_Staff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_on_a_Staff/gifts).



> At last I post this disgusting <4k words of fluff for the Felannie Fever server's Secret ~~Seteth~~ Santa event! My recipient is Star, who asked for "post-canon felannie", and I hope I delivered (especially after batting around several ideas before settling on this)! 
> 
> Star, I humbly ask you accept my gift and hope that it gives you half as much enjoyment as any of your lovely fics have given me. Happy winter season and new year! <3

“What do you mean there aren’t any beds left?” Felix demanded of the innkeeper. He pressed his hands against the counter and leaned towards him. “There’s a blizzard outside and this is the only inn for leagues!”

“My apologies, my lord,” the innkeeper said, utterly undeterred by Felix’s hostility. “I’m afraid I will not be putting out any guests that have already paid, but I’m sure I can find a nice bundle of hay for you in the stables.”

He was _almost_ impressed by the innkeeper’s obstinacy in the face of a frustrated noble - the man must be accustomed to dealing with them on this busy crossroads between western and eastern Faerghus - but he did not fancy spending a night with his horse. If not for the weather, he might’ve simply pitched a makeshift tent and slept slumped against a tree like his own one-man army, but the storm raging outdoors descended rapidly and with a vengeance.

Even in here, over the din of a crowded common room and the minstrel in the corner strumming her lute, the wind whistled and whined and tore at buildings and tree branches alike. And despite the cheerful warmth of a large hearth and a multitude of bodies, his shivers under his damp cloak refused to falter.

Felix scowled. “I’m not asking you to put anyone else out, but maybe—”

“You can share with me!” a bright voice cut in. He glanced to the side, jaw dropping when he took in the speaker and her widening eyes. “I mean”—her face flushed pink—”if you want to, because there’s only one bed so—”

“I’ll, uh, I accept,” Felix said once he found his tongue (glued to the roof of his mouth). He tore his gaze away - away from _Annette_ , what was she doing here? - and turned back towards the nonplussed innkeeper. “I’ll pay for the boarding.”

“I’ve already paid for it,” Annette protested, standing beside him and waving her hands.

Felix ignored her and reached in his pocket. “No, I’ll—”

“Oh, for the love of Saint Cethleann!” the innkeeper exclaimed in his first show of emotion since Felix approached him. He slammed his ledger shut with a snap before sliding it under the counter. “The room and hot meals are paid for, so just try not to spill any gravy on the curtains or leave a window open!” He spun on his heel and retreated towards the common room, deftly slipping between chairs and benches before disappearing through a door.

Felix didn’t bother staring after him, instead turning to Annette and…well, staring at _her_. She smiled up at him - had she always been so short? - with a hint of red high in her cheeks before brandishing a key dangling from a string. “If you’re good, you can even have the bed,” she told him.

He frowned. “I just want somewhere warm and dry to sleep,” he retorted. “I don’t care if it’s comfortable.”

“Whatever you say, Felix,” Annette practically sang. Her voice shot something warm through his body - it gripped him, held him captive as powerfully as ever - and he let her loop her arm through his and tug him deeper into the common room.

The sheer _noise_ of it engulfed him, for a heartbeat nearly overwhelming. His hand found the hilt of his sword as the simple scraping of pewter forks against wooden bowls sounded uncomfortably like swords clashing against shields, but before long Annette dragged him into a quieter corner near the hearth and shoved him into a chair. Her manhandling utterly bewildered - and distracted - him, but he found himself relaxing and gratefully turning towards the fire and holding out his hands while Annette perched on the chair’s arm beside him.

For a moment it was as if they’d never been apart since war’s end, as if no distance and their separate futures ever stood between them, and Felix could think back on the warm, humid greenhouse and how her singing once filled it with a vibrancy even the plants never managed.

But much like then he was at a loss for words. He glanced around the common room, as if the walls would advise him on what to say - a simple “how are you?” wouldn’t possibly suffice, not when she offered him lodging. The minstrel in the corner, surrounded by a few eager listeners clapping to her familiar ditty about the Maiden of Wind, sang in a steady but pitching voice.

“Your voice is better than hers,” Felix muttered to Annette.

Her eyes, fixed on the hearth, darted towards him. Her cheeks turned red - he’d almost forgotten how _pleasant_ the flutter in his chest felt at such a sight - but she protested, “Shush. I do not.”

He covered his mouth to hide a growing smirk and stared into the crowd. “Your lyrics are better and more memorable too,” he told her.

“Stop teasing me, Felix,” Annette grumbled, her hand lightly smacking his shoulder.

Felix rubbed his arm and rolled his eyes. “I’m not teasing you,” he told her, his own face warming at the admission. “It’s just…the truth.”

“Well, stop!”

“You don’t want me to tell you the truth?” He raised an eyebrow at her, unable to help himself when she squirmed like that.

“What if you’re wrong?” Annette retorted. She crossed her arms and pouted at the hearth, her cheeks burning brighter than the fire.

“I’m not,” he insisted.

“But—”

Felix, growing just a little frustrated, grabbed her chin and turned her head to meet his eyes. “I’m not wrong.”

Annette stared at him, blinking almost owlishly. He could see every distinct shade of blue in her eyes, every flicker of her lashes and their shadows playing over her cheeks.

His breath caught, but he let her go and turned away to hide his hot face. “Were you…really traveling alone?” he wondered.

She leaned away from him - she sighed so softly he wondered if he imagined it - and admitted, “I was.”

He turned sharply to look at her, a frown tugging at his mouth. “Just because the war’s over doesn’t mean the roads are safe,” he scolded her.

“Please, Felix, I can protect myself just fine,” Annette told him, though she smiled reassuringly at him. “Besides, bandits are just as vulnerable to sudden inclement weather as singing mages.”

That didn’t reassure him in the least. “But—”

“I hadn’t planned to travel alone,” she cut him off with an irritated huff. She crossed her arms and bounced her foot. “Ashe was supposed to travel with me, but some business held him up in Gaspard and I couldn’t afford to wait, especially not with a storm threatening.”

“And why didn’t you—” He gaped at her, all her words catching up to him. “Wait, are you implying you _knew_ the blizzard would hit?”

Annette shrugged, but a certain shyness softened her smile. “Well, um, study wind magic long enough and you develop a certain…sense for predicting the weather.”

“That’s…amazing,” he intoned, unable to help staring at her. “And horrifyingly useful.”

“It is pretty handy.” Her legs swung back and forth, so wildly she nearly toppled off the chair until he grabbed her by the arm to steady her.

“Careful,” he said, before standing and nodding at the chair.

She followed his gaze, then shook her head and said, “Oh, no, I’m fine, Felix.”

He crossed his arms and frowned. “Annette…”

“Ugh, why do you always have to look at me like that?” she exclaimed, her voice pitching in alarm.

“What? Like what?” He covered his face, as if she told him he’d smeared mud on it.

“Like…like you’re sad because of something I did,” Annette explained. She pouted, which just set something fluttering in Felix’s chest.

“I’m not…sad?” he offered, though it wasn’t a question. And he _wasn_ _’t_ sad, not at all; far from it. In fact, despite the busyness of the inn’s common room and the trouble the innkeeper gave him and the dreadful blizzard outside, Felix was quite…elated.

(Not that he would use the word “elated” to describe his mood, and certainly not aloud.)

He probably had Annette to thank for that, he realized. He smiled a little easier around her, had since their year at the academy.

“Could have fooled me,” Annette grumbled, though when he refused to budge from where he stood, she slumped into the chair with her arms crossed tight, devoutly avoiding his gaze in favor of staring at the fire with a glare that would burn anything else.

Felix chuckled; he couldn’t help it when she worked herself up over him simply offering her his chair. “Aren’t you tired from traveling?” he wondered.

“Aren’t _you_?” she retorted.

He shrugged before leaning against the wall opposite the hearth…and closer to her. A yawn threatened to split his lips, belying his own exhaustion from the road, but he covered it with a hand. He wasn’t so eager to bid her goodnight after months apart. “I’ll rest better when I return to Fhirdiad anyway,” he said. And with the prospect of sharing her room that evening…well, he doubted he would sleep as deeply as he would like.

Annette perked up at his words. “Oh, you’re on your way to Fhirdiad too? Not Fraldarius?”

“It’s on the way,” he said. “Might as well pay the boar and his little piglet a visit.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why are you heading there?”

“I’m planning on spending the winter there with my father,” she said brightly.

Felix tried to keep the scowl from his face at the mention of Sir Gustave but doubted he managed it. Instead, he said, “You want to _winter_ in Fhirdiad? Isn’t Dominic warmer?”

“Well…” Annette all but wiggled in her seat with some barely contained excitement. “I have an appointment for a possible professorship at the School of Sorcery too! It’s why I had to leave ahead of Ashe; I can’t afford to be late, and—oh no, this storm is going to make me late!” Her hands fisted in the fabric of her dress, her eyes widening with alarm. “I’ll make such a poor impression if I’m late!”

“What?” Felix waved a dismissive hand. “Did you cause the storm?”

“No,” she said hesitantly, “but—”

He rolled his eyes. “Then if they blame you for being delayed, they’re hardly worth your time.”

“Uh…maybe,” she muttered.

Her tone and the downward cast to her eyes dripped uncertainty. Felix’s chest tightened at the sound of it. “They’d be fools not to see your value,” he insisted, leaning towards her. “You’re…clever”—he winced at the waver in his voice and hoped she would write off the heat in his face as a result of the fire—”and you have…connections.”

“Oh, I have _connections_?” Annette giggled at that. “Should I mention I went to school with the king and Duke Fraldarius? I’m sure that will get me somewhere…though the faculty at the School of Sorcery was always notoriously indifferent to connections like that.”

Something in him lightened at her laughter; did _he_ do that? He could hardly believe he actually…cheered her up.

Her cheeks colored. “Uh, Felix?” She blinked, poking her own chin. “Why are you staring at me? Do I have something on my face?”

Saints, why was his face so hot suddenly? Felix cleared his throat and turned his head away, but his unwitting smile resisted his attempt to wipe it off. “Just your…eyes,” he mumbled. “Your nose too.”

She giggled again, a blessed sound as musical as her songs, before sighing…a decidedly more distressing thing. “I guess there’s another reason I want to winter in Fhirdiad and not in my uncle’s territory.”

Felix glanced at her, frowning. “Why?”

“Well, my uncle’s been trying to arrange a marriage for me for most of the last year.” Her hands clasped in her lap, her gaze distant on the fire. “Since the war is over, he thinks there’s no reason to put it off anymore…”

He hummed in acknowledgment of her words, though dread twisted his stomach into knots.

“I don’t…mind marrying, exactly,” Annette continued, “but half the men I’ve met don’t really, uh, well, I can’t say they suit me.”

He glared at the hearth, as if he could burn _that_ into a crisp with just the fire in his gaze, as if it was the nameless, faceless stranger that she might one day marry. He muttered, “Awfully bold of your uncle to try marrying you off after trying to take you hostage on behalf of the Empire.”

“That’s just because he couldn’t afford for the Empire to attack him!” she retorted.

Felix’s lips pressed together but he didn’t argue; he supposed he couldn’t blame her for remaining loyal to the disappointing men in her family, not when his own—

He clipped that thought before it could impact him and simply demanded, “Still…what gives your uncle the right? Your family isn’t ailing financially like Ingrid’s.”

“He’s the head of my family,” she reminded him, “and it’s not like I have no say in it seeing as I’ve turned down every offer I’ve gotten.” Her voice grew softer and more sheepish with every word, so quiet he had to lean closer to hear her.

“Have you…received many offers?” he wondered. His breath caught in his chest, in suspense while she seemed to consider how to reply.

And why did her avoiding his eyes make his chest tighten so? If men were courting her, why hadn’t _he_ —

“I’ve gotten a few…” Annette admitted without looking at him.

“Mostly old dodders with no appreciation for you further than your Crest?” he said, unable to keep the venom from his voice.

“Not exactly, no, since uh…remember Linhardt?” A curious smile poked at her lips, but she still devoutly fixed her gaze on the floor at his feet.

Felix scowled. “That lazy boy from the Empire?”

“He was one of them…”

His eyes widened, incredulous but no less irritated. “Really? _Him_?”

“I declined obviously!” Annette quickly reassured him, at last glancing in his direction. “It was only a few days ago that I told my uncle, and he’s getting rather frustrated with my ‘obstinacy’ in ‘resisting his efforts’ to ‘ensure my future’.” She snorted, her tone uncharacteristically bitter as she carried on, “That’s partly why I left when I did, but holy Seiros I’m starting to understand how Ingrid and Mercie must’ve felt while we were still in school.”

“Wait”—he narrowed his eyes at her, confused—”why did you decline?”

She stared at him, as if surprised he bothered asking; his heart raced while he waited for her to answer, until she said, “I suppose I like him well enough, but…I couldn’t imagine a life with him.” She laughed with too little humor, not like she did mere moments ago. “I think he’d frustrate me too much.”

Felix’s eyes slipped past her, towards the common room. It had all but emptied since they sat beside the hearth, and he’d scarcely noticed it, so engrossed in their conversation - in Annette. He licked his lips, trying to gather a semblance from his cycling thoughts, and dared to wonder, “What if there was someone you…can imagine a life with?”

_What if_ I _asked?_ Felix longed to ask, but something - his fear that she would reject him, that maybe she deserved better than him - held him back.

“I’d at least think about it,” Annette replied easily enough.

“And you refused that one out of hand?”

“Linhardt?” She shrugged. “Oh, yes, I remember him well enough.” She smiled, a little softer this time, and added, “Not nearly as well as I do you, obviously, but enough I can say I’d rather not tie my future to his.”

_What about to mine?_ He almost _wanted_ to let it slip out, to hear what she said be it what he wanted from her or not, but before he could build up the courage, she cut into his thoughts:

“Felix…or, um, should I be calling you ‘Your Grace’?” Her eyes widened with horror. “Should I have been calling you that all along?”

Her sudden change in attitude might’ve been endearing…if not for the wince that escaped him. “Please don’t,” he said. “You’re the last person I want calling me that, Annette.”

(He doubted he would ever grow accustomed to his father’s old addresses and titles.)

“Oh, all right,” Annette agreed easily enough, to his relief, “but…surely you have experience with marriage offers.” Her tone took on a half-teasing edge. “You’re probably the most eligible man in Fodlan since His Majesty married!”

Felix grimaced and scoffed, “Don’t remind me. Even Ingrid’s prodding me to court someone, like she has room to talk! And as bad as she is, Sylvain is worse by far.”

She giggled again, the lightness to it making his chest flutter despite the nature of their conversation. “Mercie too,” she said, “even though she knows how important my studies are to me.”

“I hope you’re giving your songs the same importance,” he told her. A smirk poked at his lips. “I still haven’t heart ‘swamp beasties’, though you promised I would someday.”

Her face turned a lovely shade of pink as she waved a hand at him. “Please, Felix, because I can help people with my silly songs.”

“You’ve…helped me,” he confessed. “More than you’d think.”

“Oh?” She grinned at him. “Are you still my c—Saints,” she swore, covering her red face with both hands, “it’s embarrassing just repeating.”

A pained noise escaped Felix at the reminder, and his own cheeks warmed as he glanced back at the common room. The minstrel had long since departed, likely retiring to her own bed, and only a couple of serving girls milled about chatting while they cleaned and shoved furniture back into place. “Then please spare me.”

Annette laughed, as delightfully as ever. “I will, Felix, but—wait, _are_ you?” She stared at him.

His heart skipped a beat; if the minstrel still sang and strummed, he might’ve imagined her stopping abruptly. “I…”

“Felix…”

“What?”

“Ugh, that’s terribly unfair!” Annette waved her arms with all the emphasis of a spell on the verge of casting.

“Why?” he said, gaping at her and recoiling, stunned as he was at the sudden turn in conversation. “What did I do?”

“I don’t—I don’t know!” Annette exclaimed. “But I’m not sure I like it!”

“And I’m not sure you’re making much sense,” Felix insisted. “I can make more meaning from your lyrics sometimes.”

She opened her mouth to retort, perhaps with an answer to his challenge, but to his utter shock, she erupted into peals of laughter far brighter than anything that escaped her thus far. “Oh, Felix, I do love you!”

He always thought it a cliche in the rare instances he came across it in books, but his heart _leapt_. He stared at her, his jaw hanging open like a dumbstruck - _love_ struck - fool, and croaked, “…I—”

Her eyes pierced his, a question in them. “…wh—oh.” Her lips parted, her hand hovering over them in a strangely demure expression of surprise as her face flushed a red so dark he almost worried she might be feverish. “Oh…I, uh, I mean, I…” She hid her face in her hands.

Felix couldn’t tear his eyes away from her; had he…imagined that? Dared he think much of it at all? Should he bother entertaining that inkling - that rare hint - of hope swooping in his stomach? “A-Annette, are you—do you—is this—” He cut himself off, his hands curling into fists at his side, frustrated at his own ineptitude. “Is this…like the time you said you…hated me?”

“No, I…” She groaned and lifted her face just enough to shoot him a fleeting glance. “Please…forget I said anything.”

“I can’t,” he admitted, for even now her unintended declaration echoed through his head with all the persistence of her songs. “It’s permanently etched in my memory.”

But why did she look so…fretful about it? He needed—to _tell_ her—the _same_. Damn him, he was no better at this than he was during the war!

Annette sighed and mused, “Wow, look at how awkward I made things.” She bolted to her feet as if blown upright by a wind spell, her long hair swishing against her back as she spun on her heel without looking at him. “Maybe I should go to bed before I say something…worse, but, um”—

Felix grabbed her slender wrist, his long fingers fitting snugly around it, before she retreated too far. His heart pounded so wildly they must’ve felt the force of it in Arianrhod. When she half-turned to him with shock coloring her face, he opened his mouth…before halting with a grimace. “I…uh…Annette…”

Felix was never much interested in romance or marriage, even grew up thinking it would never be for him; why commit to a person like that, why waste time on one other soul, when he could better spend his life building his strength for who and what he already knew? But Annette made him reconsider and rethink and reevaluate everything he thought he wanted for himself, ever since her lyrics wove into the fabric of his dreams and her spirit tainted - _enhanced_ \- his reality.

And _that_ was what he struggled to tell her.

“I…missed you,” Felix managed to get out, his gaze flicking up in time to see her eyes widen in shock. “Not just…your songs, but…” He raked his other hand over his face and sighed.

And the entire time Annette stared at him, eyes wide and incredulous, cheeks inflamed and embarrassed (as much as his own must’ve been). He stepped closer to her, and when she didn’t shift away, made no move to wrench her arm from his grasp, he narrowed the gap and leaned down until her warm breath caressed his jaw.

She breathed unsteadily, as nervous as him. “Felix…” she murmured.

“Um…”

Her eyes slipped shut when she surged up and kissed him.

Warmth filled him - maybe he could’ve melted a path through the blizzard with it - as her lips pressed against his. He cupped her face, holding her steady, and leaned into her a little more.

Her wispy breaths, his own heartbeat in his ear, her soft skin under his fingers and her hand clenched against his chest - all exhilarated more than any life-threatening battle ever did. He poured everything he felt for her - _wanted_ for and from her - into it, until his head spun.

Felix pulled away, reluctantly and breathlessly, and this time he had little difficulty meeting her shining blue eyes. She _beamed_ at him, bright and happy and so lovely it made him wonder if he would suffocate.

“Dammit,” he muttered, pinching his eyes shut as he rested his forehead against hers.

Her fingertips skirted up his wrist where his sleeve slipped, sending a jolt down his arm. “What?” she wondered, her voice soft.

“I _am_ still your…captive,” he said, but he couldn’t help his smile, even when Annette’s palm connected with his shoulder.

But when he opened his eyes she smiled almost shyly. “Um, well, since we’re headed in the same direction anyway,” she mumbled, “do you want to continue to Fhirdiad…with me?”

“Yes,” Felix said quickly, easily, thinking he’d never wanted anything more in his life, “I’d like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> the "there was only one bed" teaser was a red herring unfortunately. maybe another time though...
> 
> I love Linhardt but he's Annette's sub-par suitor because I'm still a little mad at him for breaking up felannie the first time I played Azure Moon ;_;
> 
> Anyway hoped you liked it ~~perhaps even enough to leave a comment~~! If you live in the northern hemisphere, stay warm <3


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